Wandering Worldwide

Photo: Richard Liblanc Robert Hirschfield plays a role in his teachers film. MY FRIEND ISABELLE once told me of the time she asked her over-rehearsed question about consciousness to her teacher, the late Nisargadatta of Bombay. He ordered her out of his upper room with the flick of his stern finger. Banished for three long days from his ferocity and bidi smoke, she suffered terribly. It made me wonder about the ways of spiritual teachers. It made me think of Sujata Ma, a teacher I had in Benares. She was round as a dumpling, but very solid. She was a teacher of non-duality, a teaching Western seekers are drawn to like flies to honey. In many cases, distracted, half-baked flies, careening from shrines to rivers to caves to her ample lap in search of truth. Or something. She found us very funny. We were the comic spiritual movies she watched every day. We were her Ganges Cinemaplex. She tried her best to muffle her giggles in the folds of her sari, for she tended to be somewhat reserved ...

Photo: Carnoodles This is a great reminder for mindfulness. I CAME ACROSS this graphic on High Existence . Its profoundly simple. And profoundly profound. What a great practice in mindfulness: ask yourself, in every instance, in everything you do, am I doing/saying this out of love or fear? Sometimes it will be love, sometimes it will be fear. Dont beat yourself up if it happens to be fear. It just is. But recognizing that is a huge step and progress toward personal growth. I can reflect on previous travels and recognize how much fear played a role in decisions I made (or didnt make) and had I been more mindful at the time how I could have used that to learn more about myself. So which is it, love or fear?

What can ever be real without passing to us through story first? WHEN MARK HOGANCAMP WAS BEATEN to within an inch of his life outside a bar, he lost many of his memories of his life and himself. As a form of therapy, he created Marwencol , a fictitious Belgian village during World War II. Marks story, and that of Marwencol, has since become a documentary with the same name. What began as a process of creative healing branches into a much richer universe. Marwencol comes to straddle the boundary between what is real, and the stories we weave in such detail that they might as well be. Friends and family become alternate characters in Marks continuously developing storyline. The cast of Marwencol includes both a time-travelling witch and Nazi SS officers, and in this world, Marks alter ego is a former US pilot who finds himself drawn into various plots as they unfold. As a documentary of Marks journey, Marwencol looks bloody fascinating. As an artistic exploration, it asks profound questi...

Photo: Perfecto Insecto Christine Garvin learns that in the desert you have no choice but to face yourself. There is no running away. IT TOOK ME eight years to get to Burning Man . In those eight years I had visions of what this festival was: glo-sticks, tutus, multi-colored stockings, hand sanitizer, mega-liter water bottles, and LED lights. Art cars and desert dust. Drugs. Naked people. Lots of drugs and naked people. Id heard of the camps, but I never really understood what that meant. People didnt use money, but they didnt barter either. My co-worker Tom told me about his camp one year, Random Acts of Pizza , where they would throw a dart at their map of Black Rock City and wherever it landed, one of the camp members would jump on a bike and deliver a homemade pizza cooked up in their solar oven. Youre out in the middle of the desert with no way to get food if you run out. At one burn, my friend Ed took 20 packs of Tasty Bites with him to the desert. Its just in case, he told me. Y...

Michael Grab is a veteran at doing the impossible. [Editor's note: After first posting about Gravity Glue here , I was so inspired by the video that I headed out to a creek days later and tried rock balancing myself. It's strangely addictive and very internal. Everything else becomes still and the focus is intense. When I'd snap out of it, I had the same feeling I get after a session of yoga or meditation. I recommend the next time you find yourself with the opportunity, to take advantage. - Carlo] I BALANCE ROCKS for a number of reasons. My initial attraction was the good feeling it gave me; the meditative aspect is relaxing. That is the fundamental basis for my continued practice. As I did it more, I noticed that small crowds would start gathering to watch. There is a mutual creation that begins once people are watching. What I do next is often influenced by spectators. Its almost as if they feed off the energy surrounding the gardens, but simultaneously my creative flow...

Photo: adrielsocrates Did you know theres a website you can go to to anonymously vent or listen to someone vent? ITS CALLED Compassion Pit . Its simple. You dont have to register or log in or post anything about yourself. You simply go there and choose to be either a Venter or a Listener. Ive worked hard on being an understanding person. I guess you could say I have a passion for compassion. Its something Im very conscious about and I like to exercise it in my daily life, both with people I interact with and people I dont. I even tried to practice compassion for the hooligans and looters who burned cars and smashed windows in Vancouver during the Stanley Cup riots . What a great way to extend this, I thought, via the web. I could practice compassion in a tangible way toward people from god knows where. I clicked on Listener. Then I waited. click to enlarge Not sure what happened there. Did she get freaked out that I was a first-time Listener? Maybe as a first-time Venter she thought at...

Photos by author Baxter Jackson unveils a side of Ramadan that might surprise you. THE FIRST TIME a grown man ever kissed me was during Ramadan. I was at a posh all-night iftar buffet in the dusty outskirts of Cairo with my fiance, Kristina, when I ran into Mohammed, an Egyptian acquaintance of mine. He greeted me with a smile as warm as the night air. His arms, open. Kristina saw the panic in my eyes but shouldered me toward him anyway, giggling in anticipation of what she knew Id been trying to avoid. He leaned in for the customary Arab man-hug. The stubble of his cheeks pressed against my own, his pursed lips firmly planting on both of my cheeks first the right, then the left. After hed finished greeting me, he continued to hold me at arm length, looking at me puzzled. Its my first time being kissed by a grown man, I explained. He and Kristina both burst out laughing. He patted me on the back and told me get used to it cause, after all, This is Ramadan, habeebi. Ramadan and I jus...